mercoledì 30 settembre 2015

Dolce&Gabbana S/S16: L'inno all'Italia

Milan Fashion Week is over. A week discussed and subdued compared to previous editions.
I begin this summary from my great love, Dolce&Gabbana, and their spring/summer 2016, a tribute to Italy.
The collection "Italy is Love" is really a tribute to the country's monuments like the Colosseum and wonderful places like Portofino, Venice, Capri, whose postcard images are shown on dresses, suits, blouses and skirts. The Dolce&Gabbana ultra-feminine woman, with the femininity of the past, choosing her outfit to enjoy the beauties of our country.
 Embroidered flowers, frills and corsets, colorful prints, red and black, transparencies, brocade fabrics and sailor stripes. Each dress a glimpse of the island or a gondola ride, every outfit a moment to savor and a photograph to be captured.
As always, an original walkway and set, the models, in fact, interpret the foreign tourists just landed in the beautiful country, represented by a set with tables, pottery shop and souvenirs, and also a theater of puppets.
And between Venice and the moon, Capri and the sea, I dream.

lunedì 14 settembre 2015

Total Denim Monday

Monday. The smell of coffee, the sound of rain falling, "5 more minutes and then I get up". Monday and that notebook full of deadlines and programs. Dreams and desires.
Monday, the green and blue that they join hands together in the journey of the week will be.
Monday, a new pair of sunglasses and a vintage bag.
Monday and a total denim look, the first and the last. Because I tried to be less doll or less princess, without "fru fru" dresses and flared skirts. But I'm not good. Moreover, if one is born princess she can not die gypsy, right ?! So keep me as well, princess inside.
Mondays in total denim, but also Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I leave it to someone else who definitely takes it better than me, from the next I go back to court...which is better!

venerdì 11 settembre 2015

Da certe donne non si torna indietro. MAI.

Do not fall in love with a woman who reads, a woman who feels too, of a woman who writes.
Do not fall in love with an educated, sorceress, delusional, crazy woman.
Do not fall in love with a woman who thinks, she knows to know, and that is also capable of flying, a woman who believes in herself.
Do not fall in love with a woman who laughs or cries while making love, which knows how to transform her spirit in the flesh and, even more, of a woman who loves poetry (they are the most dangerous), or of a woman who remain half an hour in front of a painting or who can not live without music.
Do not fall in love with an intense, playful, bright, rebellious, irreverent woman.
Not happen to you ever fall in love with a woman like that.
Because when you fall in love with a woman like that, she stays with you or not, whether she love you or not, to a woman like that no going back.

lunedì 7 settembre 2015

Dolcemente complicata

She was a complicated person.
Complicated in the gestures, in the thoughts, to say words, even embrace. She was one of those people that, seemed to have struggled against something and now, now she just wanted to stand while being lost. She was one of those complex people smiling, always with the feet on the ground but with the head and heart elsewhere.
Complicated because she didn't saw only one color, but all the nuances, complex because she could not be content, no more.
Complicated because her thoughts were almost never light, many times weighed, crushed, but then, cradled between the notes of distant, listen, remember songs.
Complicated because she kept trying smiles, without tiring. Because she distinguished them. Because she said she would not make it, but then, with surprise get up and do not know how, take it forever. Complicated because she would not open at all, but only in front of a pair of honest eyes.
Without break up body and soul she was able to enter gently in the heart, without noise, without doing evil. But you heard it too, because she was able to touch and make vibrate gently with pure emotions ropes of this.
Complicated because she asked with the eyes and not with words, so damned incomprehensible.
Protecting and knew the extreme sweetness of loving, loaded on her shoulders the weight of the day, then trust any secret at night. She could protect against sudden storms. Often she flooded, but continued to breathe, without sinking.
She was one of those people that you would not say: they are beautiful. Perhaps because the complexity scares, lands, leaves you so: unprepared.
In front of the banality and a life devoted to frivolous, granted, no taste, she could give it to them, even when everything seemed to dry like a wilderness. Dry and off as rainy days.
She could sweep the monotony of gray and give color and flavor: that of dreams color of the sky, prairie color of hope, the red color of the lips, the love color of life.